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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709828">Retrouvailles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsupremwx/pseuds/xsupremwx'>xsupremwx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Love Letters, Not Happy, Sad, Severus Snape Lives, minerva knows, narcissa and Severus are just right, really good food, severus deserve be happy but I don't know how to make happy storys, young death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:36:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsupremwx/pseuds/xsupremwx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Severus does not remember a student and she makes the best food in the magical world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Retrouvailles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to all those things that just weren't supposed to happen.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything changed after the war.  It was as if the redone walls still smelled of the citric scent of cursed bodies on the pale earthen floor, as if the dye of the magic walls were permanently marked with the sweaty fingers of the wizards running for their own lives while shouting shield spells to protect  to himself, yet, everything was unbelievably new.  The diagonal alley was no longer the small family stream of wizards walking with their descendants to complete the list of school supplies, it was not just black robes being dragged across the vast terrain with low heads and melancholy whispers.  There was no longer an imminent threat ceasing any subverting drop of joy that they could obtain for themselves at the end of the day, the dark lord was dead and banished once and for all.  People could be happy now, again.  The sound of a constant flow of people walking up and down the street of infested stores could sound like music after such troubled months, it had been five years before the wizarding society could rise with hands and legs of gold and put on a mask again.  formal on their faces.  Which did not invalidate the residues of that fight, of course, the fear was still ready lurking before every dark shadow rising on the empty wall.  The darkness still seemed to be watching them all, waiting patiently to draw its wand at the best specific time and overpower them once and for all.</p><p> </p><p> Minerva McGonagall did not change a single hair with the war, absolutely none of the wrinkles that were gracing her friendly face was the result of those terrible days, the woman had already obtained for herself an extra handful of worries during a lifetime to acquire those symptoms of  time.  Her position at Hogwarts had been relocated to headmistress since Dumbledore was dead and the man who replaced him was much more interested in spending the rest of his days nicely locked up on his family estate supplying potions to the main hospitals in the wizarding world and remaining mockingly.  in the darkness, which was of no use to the witch, who promptly made her invitation in an almost tempting tone and carefully waited for the man to pass through the wooden gates of the small restaurant at the end of one of the many tormented streets in the diagonal alley.  Minerva had discovered that place while discussing trivialities with her most recent hire on the faculty, Hermione Granger, currently teaching the spell discipline at the educational castle she had commented, more than once, on the feat that were the flavors of Amortentia.  The restaurant had recently been changed its head and a small witch family coming from the scarce part of Italy was proving to be quite competent while putting together an excellent menu with an impeccable variety of surprising tastes, the atmosphere was disputed daily and when night fell the tables should  be booked in advance.  Hermione herself said she was left without a chair when she decided to visit the place before sending a short letter asking about the possibility of a reservation that night, which seemed to be repeated every weekend.</p><p> </p><p> "Would you like to order now?"  The adorable boy asked, his little quill floating happily over the notepad with yellowed papers and a hard cover.  The teacher stared at her ceramic cup with warm tea and generous slices of lemon, causing that almost citrus over the refreshing mint.</p><p> </p><p>"No, I'm waiting for someone."  The woman amended, offering her best smile to the youthful countenance beside her and brooding over her thoughts a second time as she folded her hands in her lap.  "I would, however, like to speak to Miss Bianchi."  The teacher had handpicked that restaurant together because of the surprising news that that witch, that pale young Ravenclaw girl, always with her big brown eyes wrapped around some specific note, was now acting wonderfully as a Chef in the best restaurant in the wizarding world.  a find, really.  Minerva always thought she would follow the paths of the potion, honestly she always hoped that the girl would follow the same steps as Severus and replace him in the classroom a few years later.  The witch surprised everyone by taking such an unexpected path, not that cooking could sound so different from the world of potions, it really didn't.</p><p> </p><p> "I will send your wish, have a good tea."  The blond-haired boy announced, walking back to the rest of the tables covered with the pearly sheet embroidered with small flowers on the flowing tips.</p><p> </p><p> Minerva noticed the subtle change in the scent of the room changing from a few melancholy whispers to an impetuous curiosity when the door opened magically and the almost sixty-year-old man stepped over the threshold with his blackened garments and oil hairs falling like curtains on his.  face, Severus Snape had left the wizarding world as a vile traitor only a few years later and an artful treatment against the effects of Nagini's killer poison, to become one of the greatest heroes of the wizarding world.  The man at least attended the ceremony in his honor at the ministry, the platinum medal was still wrapped in a velvet box at the bottom of his abandoned school quarters that he once taught and nothing, absolutely none of that could matter less to the master of  potions.  That man had given his all for a lifetime, more than forty years just giving his soul to two unforgivable lords and a long line of people with no hard feelings about demanding from him what they could ask for with lame excuses.  It was no wonder that he chose exile for himself, chose his family home that was far enough from everything and absolutely everyone to imprison his existence between working with what he liked and living for no one but himself  same.  Minerva worried about her loneliness for as long as she could, but she was just too old to give loving advice to a war survivor who had offered her life in dedication to a dead woman almost twenty-five years ago.  And he seemed to get along with his solitude, his face was still solidly intoxicating when he sat in front of him with unfathomable eyes and that twisted, sulky lips that always chased him in the castle corridors.</p><p> </p><p> "I am not accepting your offer to return to Hogwarts, Minerva. It is certainly a terrible nuisance that you make me come here to repeat this to you, for the third time."  Her sentence almost made her spit her own warm tea, irony always conceived of Severus as another of the robes that seemed to have been made to outline her thin body.</p><p> </p><p> "Order your drink, Severus. It is a terrible nuisance that you still require a woman of my age so much effort just to get you out of your private cave."  She replied, moving her clear eyes cordially around as she swallowed yet another portion of her soft drink and magically played with the yellowish ring that was still sailing inside her glass.  The wizard scanned her with piercing eyes in a shade of black so dark it could melt, like magic, make it run down the chair like nothing but opaque wax shattered into tiny pieces of her dramatic existence, only to curl her dark lashes in the end.  into the little magic menu that once touched floated slowly up to your nose.  "I told you to choose your drink, not to investigate the ingredients used in each tea."  The teacher objected, while slowly blinking at the irreverent curve that had formed on the forehead of another, that was one of the main reasons why Severus did not attend restaurants more regularly, the man could never just sit on his wooden chair and choose one  damn dish to taste while talking trivia.  There was something pulsating under his skin, like a residual curse running like blood through his veins that pushed him forward and upward on a frightening plain, he always needed to think too much about anything he set out to do.  A residual trauma, Minerva knew from an early age.</p><p> </p><p> "Professor."  The time-ripened voice finally removed itself and its companion who still seemed to have problems with his own daydreams menu, the mind-blowing smell of spices invading his senses at the same time as the slim figure appeared at the left end of his square table with  a skin glowing slightly with sweat.  Times had passed by running past them, McGonagall noticed in herself when she looked up and finally captured the beautiful, youthful figure who was once short enough to hit her hip when she was running down the halls.  "It is a pleasure to receive you, to receive you both."  The young woman scored, and it was the first time that Severus let the little menu a little more interesting than it should be spread out on the table and raised his dark eyes to try to identify the carrier of that absurdly unknown tone.</p><p> </p><p> "The pleasure is all ours, Miss Bianchi."  It was Minerva who spoke, since the potions master was too intrigued by his own thoughts trying to recover in his memory from where those absurdly brown eyes could be so miserably unknown and memorable yet.  After so many years teaching dozens of red heads for years and years on end, it is not as if memory was still an old companion for him on freezing nights, he would certainly remember the students who had demanded much more from him than some subjects and also  he would remember those who had become notable in his exams, otherwise he could remember one or two average students.  Nothing more.  So when the witch came up with a powerfully intriguing scent, her skin lightly rubbed with a very thin layer of shiny musk sweat on the deep open neckline of her professional black-button suit seemed even more inviting than the man thought possible.  Still, nothing seemed familiar enough to activate that rusty gear in his already worn-out brain.  Severus would have remembered putting his eyes on a face so strongly marked like that, on a small, sweetly rounded nose at its tip, on high, slightly tanned cheeks, on a pair of lips so full and naturally flushed, he would know.</p><p> </p><p> "Please call me Beatrice, you practically saw me grow up in your classroom."  Her voice seemed to have been molded early in a cauldron, in fact, all of it seemed to have been molded completely and totally into a specific potion to be administered as poison to the elderly.  He quietly searched for the glamor of the spell on his face, after so many years dealing with wizards and witches using their own magic to make themselves a perfect prototype of what they could one day be, there was really nothing bad about it, he  you could even use that spell on your scars again and again.  But the feeling that it could be made of magic suddenly became comforting to him, it would mean that the slightly faster pulse of his blood came from a spell well done to improve something that could not, of course, be so beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>"Looking at you now just reminds me of how old I am, dear. How old are you now?"  Minerva chased, adorably smiling when the girl pulled a delicate wooden chair to herself and sat beside her with hopeful eyes and careful hands.  Her small handkerchief in her hair was magically pulled by a silent spell and the sky blue fabric rested on her lap like a napkin folded in smooth silk, with dark curls running down her straight, parallel shoulders to the right of her bare face.  In the flash of sunlight that insisted on entering through the thick glass of the windows, the professor was attentive enough to catch the slightly reddish glow of the scar on his neck, it was a cut, slightly very slightly sweet and slightly redder than his natural color.  It had been badly healed and so her skin had been stretched too far, causing that epidermis to shrink carefully at the ends and so that detail had become more prominent and prominent.  A simple glamor could have dealt with it in just a flick of a hand, she didn't.  And then, very darkly moved by his own voracious curiosity, Severus noticed that that witch could not be wearing anything on top of herself, not when her imperfections were just a closer look.  The crooked way that her lips looked mocking in the final curves, as if they hadn't been designed to be a pair after all.  The slightly sloping shape that his left eyebrow was higher than the right, that slightly dark spot on his cheek and that little shivery bridge that was fatter than it should have been on his nose.  She had sweat accumulated on her target neck, hot droplets brushing the dark strands of her hair and nailing them vehemently against her epidermis like a powerful magic glue.</p><p> </p><p> "Twenty-three, teacher."  The witch replied, carefully using her fingers to caress her handkerchief that had once been containing the loud mess of her curly hair.  "But you haven't changed, none of you have."  She added, inexplicably eager to reaffirm that she was establishing communication with both people at that table.  While Minerva was much more concerned with talking gracefully to the young woman who appeared to have been his student, the man found himself eager to put an end to that endless litany.</p><p> </p><p> "The war has changed us all."  He brandished, disdainful.  He noticed, even though his irises were entirely focused on the bold letters nailed to the menu in front of her, when the girl practically lost her tanned glow and turned to him impregnated with surprise and confusion.</p><p> </p><p> "Yes, it has changed. I apologize if my comment seemed dismissive, professor, it was not my intention."  It seemed reasonable, Severus simply understood, even if that momentum remained stuck in his bloodstream.</p><p> </p><p> "There is no need to keep such terms in use, miss."  The spy continued as he tilted his head slightly to the right while analyzing a particular dish.  "I believe it has been a few years since she was at Hogwarts as a student, by the way, I can at least remember having her attend my classes."  He added, as sharp as a glacial knife covering a delicately decorated slice of white pie.  Silence stretched across the table like a glass wall being built with each new heartbeat that threatened to get out of control, when the man offered that young woman another look he managed to capture the offended glow by pinching her face like a funeral music playing in her eyes.  eyes.  "You were certainly not remarkable in any memorable aspect."</p><p> </p><p> "Of course not."  Bianchi whispered as she absently composed herself, her anxious hands putting that blue scarf back in her hair and rising as quietly as she could just to relocate the dark wooden chair and fold her arms back in a formal position.  "Don't worry, there is no need to remember someone like me."  She completed, pulling out a pad with rough yellowed pages and a fountain pen almost completely coated with steel.  "Can I take your orders now?"</p><p> </p><p> "Beatrice, dear."  Minerva still tried to restore that peaceful communication that had only been broken by a comment as acid as pure lemon juice, but there were no second chances.</p><p> </p><p> "There is no problem, please let me serve you with something."  The witch continued, carefully aware of herself as she smiled graciously and touched a warm hand on the shoulder of the woman who had been her teacher.</p><p> </p><p> "So I would like this red fruit Parfait that has been staring at me since I arrived and another cup of this delicious tea that I am tasting."  A lovely smile had returned to her face since the older woman could infect anyone with her temperament made of candy and molasses, everyone could bow to her adorable mood without much denial.  Which was really a nuisance.  "Severus?"</p><p> </p><p> "Is you who will prepare the desserts?"  He probed, unscrupulous.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, sir. The whole menu is prepared by me."  The witch seemed symbolically confident as she bit the inside of her cheek and raised her eyebrows.  "Any change in revenue can be made, if that is your wish."  Tempting, the professor murmured in his conscience as he scanned those sweet dishes lined up on the magic menu.</p><p> </p><p> "What kind of milk do you use in your cherry Clafoutis?"  His tone was almost professional, as if again that was the potions teacher asking any of the many delinquent students sitting at their desks with tired faces and heads as empty as the wind.</p><p> </p><p> "Usually I use skim milk to make the dough not too liquid in the oven, would you like a different ingredient?"  The professor raised an eyebrow when he finally dropped the menu that grabbed the table like his last wooden boat in the ocean, staring at the witch as if she were deeply offending him with her uneven eyebrows and her sparkling eyes in that almost transparent shade of wet brown wood.</p><p> </p><p> "I prefer it to be replaced by chestnut milk, is it possible?"  He questioned, again much more professional than it should have sounded.</p><p> </p><p> "Certainly."  He promised with a neutral face while silently saying goodbye to Minerva and walking carefully back to the large carved wooden door that probably offered him access to his troubled kitchen.  The small feeling of deep solidification of her rudest impulses fell like a warm bath for her cold days, it was good to bring back some of her old habits from time to time.  Now that he no longer had a room full of useless preteens to discount his hours of insomnia and feverish work, pushing the buttons of one of his students who had come close enough to twist that little dying flame in his stomach served, or better  , it should do.</p><p> </p><p> "Your attitude is deeply rude, Severus."  Minerva warned, the white strands at her temple offering him an almost adorable view of her tired face.  His eyes were still mockingly pointed at him as if his entire face was a ridiculous offense to the entire wizarding society, but the woman knew him better than that, certainly.</p><p> </p><p> "I was not aware that after all these years of teaching I would still have to remember each of the students who passed through my class."  He spat, as viciously as possible.  The poison could be dripping down the front of her warm blanket with inner buttons in an almost masterful black and yet Minerva didn't seem to be buying her memory flaw as well as she should have.  He was an old man for Salazar's sake, his years planting in front of those unscrupulous children were nothing more than a confused blur between stupid wounds, dark meetings and crying in the middle of the night.  It was asking too much that his brain, already worn out between torture sessions and past traumas, could reserve in itself that catalog with names and photos of students who had already passed through his life.</p><p> </p><p> "Not remembering the poor child is terrible, but it is far from being an insult considering our ages."  The witch replied, much more to herself than to the black-robed magician in front of her.  The tea in her cup seemed to have evaporated in the middle of her lint-free conversation when it was finally served by a flying teapot colored in cheerful dark green tones.  "Do you really not remember her?"  The potions master offered him a careful look before carefully shaking his head and pursing his thin lips in discontent, that little flame was still bumping small logs across the stove in his stomach.  He didn't really remember, it wasn't like he was wishing to remember yet another naughty student commenting unnecessarily on his physical attributes down the castle's shaded corridors.  But he wanted to at least get more support for his presence in the past.  "I thought that out of all the people in the world, you would be the one to recognize her most diligently."</p><p> </p><p> "And what is the reason for that?"  The tea that was being served in front of him was different from the warm, deeply summery liquid that was sitting in Minerva's cup, his mug was being filled with a deeply refreshing smell of mint and fennel and an almost imperceptible touch of hot brandy.  It seemed reasonable, he meant, but his lips were too busy eager to taste the amber liquid.</p><p> </p><p> "The girl had a thing for you."  The woman announced, almost as if she were pronouncing one of the worst bloody secrets they still needed to keep under their gloves after the war that practically destroyed the psychological of the whole magical world.  Severus couldn't even finish taking a deep sip of his elegant and certainly unexpected drink before the surprise fell so hard on his shoulders that his mask almost slipped, frowning powerfully before raising a ruthless eyebrow at the witch in front of him.  .  "It was quite remarkable at that time. Miss Bianchi graduated just a year before the golden trio, she was poring over books and more potion books in the hall, certainly touching. She gave you gifts, how could you have just forgotten about that?  "</p><p> </p><p> "I have no recollection on this subject, but I am sure that being applied in potions and offering me gifts, which most likely were prepared to be an offensive game, do not result in anything different from the rest of them."  She spliced, almost defensively, into her cloak and lifting her shoulders as she slowly blinked at her drink.</p><p> </p><p> "It wasn't those kinds of gifts, terrible man. She really looked attached, I would say."  The director continued, regardless of how much that matter was directly affecting places that Severus would like to remain untouched for the rest of his life.  Reliving old wounds was not the best way he found to spend his afternoons while trying to absorb a hot drink.  "Honestly, Severus, it is naive of you to think that I cannot identify a teenage crush when I see one."  What was certainly not a fallacy, it was Minerva who alerted both him and Albus about that curious movement of the boy who survived his best friend's sister, it was also she who raised an eyebrow when she carefully observed the terrain that lay between  another couple of immature and emotional teenagers in the left hall of the hospital wing.</p><p> </p><p> "It wouldn't be the first time that a student has found his impulses in the hands of an authority figure, I thought you knew better, Minerva."  The way his pale eyes were pointed at him, stained with that reddish tone of anger, was enough to make him feel less tense, if he could still get her off the axis like he did before, it meant that his brains, the ones that remained  , were still in place.</p><p> </p><p> "It was not purely lust if you are so interested in knowing, it was beautiful to look at. I always liked to admire the overwhelming passion in the eyes of young people."  More bullshit, he scored mentally.  "It's just outrageous that you never noticed, worse, that you don't remember."  The thorn poked the second vertebra in his bony spine, like glacial ice settling into his blood and carrying that little dying flame higher and higher in his stomach.  His appetite would be ruined if that conversation kept running the wrong way.  "It would be more than fair that you reconsider my invitation to return to teaching at Hogwarts as a way of correcting this terrible mistake."  And the man almost audibly thanked Circe that this woman was still the stubborn and impulsive old Gryffindor she had always been, devising the worst possible ways just to get where she really wanted to go.</p><p> </p><p> "My answer is still no, Minerva."  The magician replied, pulling his crossed hands up on the table and letting his eyes go straight into his eyes when disappointment invaded his body like a cold rain cloud on top of his tied hair.  He would probably be under some good spans on earth before he considered returning to the one place in the world that made it even more difficult for him to sleep than his own home, walking again through the hallways and classrooms after having lived each one.  worst days of his life under that roof was like asking him to relive each of the meetings he was forced to attend.  And it certainly wouldn't be happening, not while he still had a few inches of sanity left in his head.  Fortunately for him, and his sanity was already scarce, the conversation took the direction of gossip in the magical world when the witch simply swallowed her defeat accompanied by a gentle sip of her drink and remained smiling as she told each of the news he was not in the least interested in.  to hear, but she would still hear, because that was Minerva McGonagall and there was very little of what he wasn’t going to do for her.</p><p> </p><p> Desserts were served just a handful of minutes after the conversation was surrounding that new department that had opened in the ministry and the buzz about its purpose, when a young boy interrupted his flow of conversation to extend that genuine ceramic plate with small  brushstrokes of bluish tones on the edge and a cream paste lightly toasted with those generous slices of plump cherries with reddish tail bursting at the lovely edges.  He had to admit, it looked a lot more delicious than he was hoping to give his own arm to cheer.  Snape always cooked for himself, his mother had left very little beyond that grandiose knowledge of how to handle each of the kitchen utensils and what is the ideal temperature for roasting meat and fish in an ornamental pan.  But sweets were never really one of his qualities, the confectionery was always too delicate and much less intuitive than the rest of the kitchen.  Making a salty dough could be tricky, yet he could always correct a mistake or two with a key ingredient like cheese and white sauces so that the whole dish didn't look like a terrible mess.  Not in the bakery.  Just one more sugar potion and the damn cake could end up looking like nothing more than horse manure at the end of the day, which was certainly much more than just humiliating for someone with so much skill at stirring potions and none at finding the damn point.  </p><p> </p><p>"I now understand the reason for all the fuss, it is certainly one of the most pleasant things I have ever tasted."  The woman in front of her praised, her silver fork poking that puff pastry into a deep dish and rescuing what should have been sweet sauce together into her mouth.  It looked appetizing, he had to admit, when he finally took his silverware carefully and fished out that piece of the lovely pie with flavored cherries.  The candy practically melted against his tongue, which certainly could only come from some new magical way to raise the level of his dishes.  Clafoutis can be dangerous sweets to make, especially when the point of the dough should be nothing more than a white cream a little thicker than a creamy milk pudding, and that dough was reacting to the palate like a smooth mousse sliding between  to generous slices of cherry endorsed with a small sour lemon sauce.  What was even more surprising, considering that that dessert constantly seemed just too sweet to his taste and that citrusy touch seemed to elevate that dish to a much more balanced and much more profitable.  The ex-potions teacher devoured more than half of his plate without much concern for his education at the table, too desperate to revel in each of the generous spoonfuls he could get for himself of that terribly palatable sweet.</p><p> </p><p> When the dishes were duly empty as well as their cups and they were both arguing softly about a new article on the art of darkness, it was he who first noticed the polite and restrained manner that the young witch who had apparently been his student returned from the kitchen with  a new stain on his whitish apron and a much more tired tone that he looked when he first answered them.  The gentle smile was still twisting her generous lips up when her legs reached the square table and her dark hair remained hidden by the silky scarf covering her head.  "Forgive me for infiltrating your conversation again, I was just wondering if I could bring any more."</p><p> </p><p> "Oh dear! There are certainly no words in my vocabulary to say how much your dish pleased me, it was certainly the best thing I have eaten in years."  Minerva practically squeaked, just as thrilled as any other red cub in the Gryffindor tower.  The woman was practically kneeling in front of him in thanks for a paid dish, Severus tried to control his painful urge to just roll his eyes impatiently and ask for the damn bill.  "I'm sure Severus enjoyed his plate as much as I did, don't you, darling? I haven't seen him clean his plate this way in a few years."  Of course, the woman would still have to bring him practically by the collar into that pedantic situation.</p><p> </p><p> "Acceptable."  The master murmured, sulky enough to regret not having left at least half of his plate just to pretend a disgust that he certainly didn't have.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm glad to hear this."  The Chef scored, a smile that seemed much more sincere than all the others she had offered them since her arrival shining on her face.  "As it is not always that I receive such important guests, I took the liberty of preparing something more for you. I hope you don't mind, but I must warn you that there is a five percent alcohol content in this sweet."  The witch in front of her was excited, while Severus was just intrigued.  Sweets with alcohol could always be a complete disaster with too much sugar and too much alcohol, making everything just a teen drink served at Muggle parties or were too bitter and unbalanced like sucking on a slice of ripe lemon.  But when the woman returned from the kitchen with a silver tray gleaming reddish hues on the restaurant's roof, there was no way for those ice cream-filled bowls to be anything but heaven soaked in spoons.  What was certainly a nuisance, the man was not ready to give in to the charms of such majestic cuisine when he left his home.  "This is a special dish, not yet available on our main menu but I personally thought you would enjoy it. The base of the ice cream is salted caramel and eighty percent cocoa, it takes only two doses of firewhisky and a touch of pepper  cayenne. I hope you like it. "  The woman dictated, as softly as she was reciting a little poem stored in her spicy brain.  The bowl was only a little more spacious than the containers dedicated to serving martinis, with two fat balls of dark-colored ice cream with that thick reddish syrup and that little flower mounted minimally with what looked like dried red fruits.  It was impossible not to feel water in her mouth when she saw them leave them alone with their work of art, the man did not take more than half a second to fish for the ice cream and let it rest on his tongue delicately.  He was hoping that the peppercorn chocolate would blow his senses and the firewhisky just worked like an alcoholic balm on his tongue, but apparently the witch had worked well enough that the alcoholic drink was so well incorporated into the chocolate that they both looked like one.  .  The cocoa candy was soaked in doses of alcohol like a piece of ice in the middle of a volcano, it was absolutely anything but cold.  The ice cream still had that salty sticky toffee tip around the cruel pepper, and everything seemed to fit, everything just looked ornamental on his tongue.  Different pieces of a perfect puzzle.</p><p> </p><p> It was impossible for any of his self-preserving flags to sound louder than the abnormal noise of his brain short-circuiting the disastrously delicious way that dish looked.</p><p>Severus decided not to make that a big thought when he returned to the restaurant two days later, to have lunch that time.  He still remembered the tender way that the tender tenderloin looked tender as he broke it with his silver knife and then speared that piece next to the mashed potato with melted cottage cheese and the best sweet and sour sauce he had ever tasted, the little tart of  chocolate with lemon filling also rested generously in his memory when he simply forced his head to function properly and left the necessary amount on the table before that naughty chef returned to admire the way his food had destroyed a man without much attempt.  Which did not work very well since he returned again, again and when he realized the potions master was regularly attending Amortentia at least four times a week sometime between lunch and lunch.  The wizard severely avoided visiting the place after five in the afternoon, knowing full well that the fame of the little bistro was floating with owls all over the wizarding world and absolutely the whole society was fighting with unforgivable curses to get a nice table at the end of the  night.</p><p> </p><p> What he was not expecting was that from his frequent visits there would also grow that hot annoyance that continued to boil his belly whenever he was received by the countenance still too beautiful to be a natural of the witch who had apparently been his former student.  Severus had discovered that Miss Bianchi, in addition to being an exemplary Ravenclaw with excellent grades and almost no warning in her curriculum history, she had also been a personal friend to none other than the damn irreparable golden trio.  Hermione herself established bonds of impermeable trust with the dark-eyed chef, the man had lost count of how many times he watched Miss Granger enter the restaurant with a heavy book in hand and be greeted with a warm hug in addition to sharing a  friendly meal with the owner of the restaurant.  But Severus still did not remember her, of any specific situation where he could actually search his reckless face and adolescents in his memory in order to stop his uncomfortable and electrifying impulses whenever his voice seemed a little more silky than it should be.  It was no death sentence that he could have been attracted to anyone since Lily, the point was that it had never even crossed his mind as a remote possibility.  Wanting a sexual partner had already had its place in your life, your desires could be met with a quick chat at the bar and a few more drinks with a hot stranger with beautiful eyes, but that would end in the second that both had their needs met  and your clothes in place.  Being attracted to someone beyond his inches of bed was just as dangerous as stunning a drunken wizard and waiting for him to take enough time to reflect on his cell in Azkaban before throwing him through the wall.</p><p> </p><p> But Miss Bianchi was largely unaware of his torment when he was given special attention with his ever-friendly face and his desserts exclusively prepared for him.  In the back of his head at Minerva's words he was still floating like that fruity soufflé in front of him, there was no way that woman made with an excellent deal to dedicate to him more than a friendly gratitude for the years she learned in her classroom.  But if there were, if there was any remnant of what should, in the best scenario, be an impertinent desire for the authority figure he represented within those walls, he would be much more than happy to meet his nostalgic impulses.  It turns out that this was Severus Snape, proclaimed war hero who escaped unscathed from more than a few murders and a cut throat, he didn't know what signs he should be trying to read or interpret from a young woman under her age.</p><p> </p><p> "What's his take on lemon and wine?"  She questioned on a badly busy Friday while the sun was still refusing to make room for the starry night that would follow, carefully dragging the chair beside her back and pulling on that handkerchief, always keeping her from taking a good look at the confusion.  always curled from her rebellious curls framing her limpid face.  The plate in front of him contained that simple lemon mousse with caramel sauce that she always helped herself when she had more than a few minutes, he noticed very quickly that despite her deep creativity in inventing amazing recipes in the kitchen, she seemed to have her tastes very  well cataloged.  On rainy afternoons she would sit by her side with a large mug of hot chocolate with just a scoop of vanilla ice cream, when the day was leaving her more frustrated than usual or some of her recipes had gone from a good project directly to the trash  she drowned her sorrows in that lovely lemon mousse with thin cookie dough and when the sun was hot and her skin was sweating she opted for an alcoholic ice cream.  Today it felt like one of those days where her recipe had given her a good headache.</p><p> </p><p> "It seems unlikely, what wine are you planning to use?"  The chocolate ice cream with alcoholic doses of a French whiskey was making him a lot more relaxed than he should have been, but he couldn't control himself when the food was doing wonders for his battered mood.</p><p> </p><p> "Smooth, but I wouldn't object to using another one."  Which meant that she had certainly used soft wine in her initial attempts and had failed.  The wizard swallowed his spoon and watched as she broke the thin dough made with milk biscuit and poured that smooth cream into her beautiful lips.</p><p> </p><p> "What's the dish?"  Severus never had much advice to offer, yet just questioning her plans seemed enough for the young witch to have her brain removed from that terrible melancholy and to redo her plans.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm thinking about pie, frozen."  He replied, scraping the remaining candy off his plate and licking his lips.  "Like that strawberry pie with vodka, we had a good demand for that dessert, a variant can be interesting."  It was not a lie, even if he had not been particularly interested in that dessert in question, much more because of his aversion to alcohol than anything else.  The dish was really successful, in a week visiting his regular table he noticed the familiarity that that little reddish candy was filling the tables.</p><p> </p><p> "Port wine can be more easily harmonized since its percentage of alcohol is higher and its dosage can be better administered over a fire."  They were purely technical details, the taste of the drink was certainly more profoundly striking and soaking with lemon could be a difficult challenge to overcome, yet the young woman was staring at him with bright eyes.  Apparently the mere act of taking her back to the Hogwarts classrooms where he was her teacher and would start talking about whatever the details of a particular potion were could make her happier than anything else, personally, he didn't know  what to do with that information.</p><p> </p><p> "It's worth trying."  She concluded, offering him a knowing smile as she finished swallowing her cold water.  "Thank you, sir."</p><p> </p><p>"Are there a lot of night reservations this week?"  The potions master probed, he had been trying to find a loophole in his schedule so that he could finally enjoy an abundant dinner with the evening dishes.  What was just one more of his whims since it was more than clear that the young witch would cook anything for herself at any time of the day, he briefly remembered that afternoon where all he could think about was that Christmas roast that he usually  it would be served at Hogwarts supper, and even though she had merely commented on his impulse in a trivial conversation, the woman took almost half an hour longer than usual just to serve him that roast with buttered oil and Christmas salad with shredded chicken.  He secretly left a considerably larger amount on the table when he left the place, too shy to be able to properly thank his excessive attention to a precarious desire.</p><p> </p><p> "I believe that nothing really festive, I can always fit it on a reserved table."  He commented, as if for having been his teacher and still having the nonsense of not really remembering anything about his stay in his office he was worthy of special treatment.  As much as he sometimes became almost angry about it, the unsuspecting way she offered him frivolities with dumb ease.  Severus was not a man accustomed to receiving special treatment just for being who he was, in fact he was much more than accustomed to expecting a sick blow as soon as his face was recognized and not a special dessert.  "A table for more than one person if accompanied, will not be a problem."</p><p> </p><p> "I continue to wonder what all this special treatment is going to cost me at the end of the day."  When he left his mouth, it was nothing but a troubled whisper of his conscience momentarily haunted by the ghost of rejection and its walls of self-preservation rising like walls of gold.</p><p> </p><p> "Forgive me, did anything I say give you that impression?"  The bronzed color of his face had been swept away by a wind of surprise so great that it almost squeezed his lungs involuntarily, it seemed wrong that someone could discolor his expression so easily.  "Do you genuinely believe that I want something from you, that I am planning the right time to ask you a favor like…" The look that should be plastering her face must have seemed even more frightening to make her stop so suddenly before closing  his hands next to his fork and he practically anticipated the blow, there was nothing to indicate that this woman could go to physically or magically assault him, but Snape was not good at trusting people.  "Like Dumbledore, like Voldemort?"  And at that moment the wizard was much more than really determined to leave that restaurant and never return.  "Is it really that hard for you to understand that maybe, just maybe, I just enjoy your company?"  But he was already on his feet now, pulling an infinitely larger amount than the actual value of his meal just because anger was running blindly through his veins.  "Why is this what I do for people I like to have around me, I cook special foods and plan favorite dishes and even, you see, I offer a special reservation. Not because I damn want you to sacrifice your life for  some weird cause of light, just because I would like to offer you a good meal and share your fucking company. "  The cook almost shouted, her voice doubling to an almost painful tone when he heard the noise of the dishes being furiously collected.  "Not everyone wants to take a damn piece of your soul, some people just want to make you a beautiful dessert."  She spat, stepping firmly back into the kitchen and slamming the door so hard that the sound echoed through the empty tables and could have easily knocked over the roof.</p><p> </p><p> Looking back now, the man wished that she had knocked the ceiling over her head, that she had shattered each of the windows around her and covered her skin with as much broken glass as needed.  It would have been the only way he hadn't left the restaurant in such a disastrous decision, facing the burn of the early evening with his chest puffed up and his brain boiling.</p><p> </p><p> The night he returned to the restaurant, which had once been a small house with a few tables always crowded and small chandeliers with aromatic candles poking the air in that velvety shade of wild flowers, the place still looked immaculate.  The door was still a strange mixture of red and orange painted glass on the dark wood, the floor was still ivory, and the tables were still cordially arranged in generous rows of pearly white fabric bathing the careful top.  Narcissa was much more excited than he was to visit Amortentia, it had been years since the reputation of the little bistro had become more than just always cheerful and excited comments about the curious and delicious menu, now there were critics dedicating great careful reports while spending adjectives  to talk about the magical experience of sitting at one of the graceful tables and sipping on that lovely meal.  Always emphasizing each of the young witch's abilities to vary her greedy desserts and surprise with unimaginable combinations.</p><p> </p><p> "The reserve is in the name Snape."  His companion announced when the young wizard with golden hair as the sun requested his reservations since the restaurant was more than visibly busy, he scribbled with his pen on the large blackened hardback.</p><p> </p><p> "This way, please."  The wizard commented, as he guided them through the sea of occupied tables until he finally removed that "reserved" ticket from the top of one of the side tables for two and let them sit.  He even pulled out Narcissa's chair with an elegant smile and handed them the menu carefully before disappearing back to the restaurant door.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm so excited that at least I know what to order, do you want to offer me a suggestion?"  The bicolor-haired woman offered, stunningly as she chewed her lip as she ran her beautiful eyes around the large letters of the magic paper in front of her and offered her an accomplice look.  Looking back now he couldn't decide which exact crack in time had put them together again, whether it had been Lucius' terrible death in Azkaban or the contemplation that they simply belonged together, in some strange way, it always made sense.  Narcissa was the only one who had known him intimately since the beginning of her days, she was the only one who had seen him from his very worst to his grumpy old man on dark days, it made sense that they were together.  They were no longer teenagers, the fire of overwhelming passion was gone while they were still twenty and everything was replaced by the icy and constant way that water bathed their lives.  The complicity was constant, the affection and knowledge were a frozen lake in front of his house that from time to time became hot on summer days but would eventually return to ordinary ice.</p><p> </p><p> He suggested pasta knowing it was his favorite dish and the witch agreed with a soft sound of appreciation as red wine was poured into her glasses and just a few minutes later they were served by the main courses with extreme care, the silver was still impeccable, so  like the decorated dishes and the delicious food.  The minute the menu with the dessert dishes arrived, everything became a little too familiar and suddenly the potions master found himself back at those deserted tables in the late afternoon, he found himself in front of one of the student's mind-boggling projects that he  he just couldn't remember and the warm smile she continued to offer him even with nothing in return.  He found himself watching her eat lemon candy or alcoholic ice cream, found himself talking to her about trivial and impersonal things just because she was always asking him absurdly unimportant things and hearing her voice was almost a familiar itch on her scalp.</p><p> </p><p> Then he heard the sound of heels on the white floor, caught a shadow moving against the restaurant's firelight, and looked up at the woman who was always too beautiful to be humanly possible to stand before him.</p><p> </p><p> And when she looked at him like it hadn't been years between them.  As if he hadn't accused her of wanting, like everyone else, a piece of him.  As if she hadn't been so deeply irritated with him that she practically broke her dishes.  As if he hadn't left and never returned.  As if he had any, a single remote and poisonous memory of her.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled, like she was missing him.  </p><p>And he fell in love.</p><p> </p><p> "It is a pleasure to have you with us today, I would like to bring my regards for your union."  Narcissa was shining like a diamond, beautiful and curled up in that green Slytherin dress with sparkling straps and silky hair in a lovely hairstyle.  The young woman seemed to know exactly which buttons to push so that her clients practically overflowed with joy.  But he was too busy trying to breathe, trying to oxygenate his brain as he stared at the immaculate white dress that was hugging her body.  It looked like she had decided not to wear that terribly familiar outfit with a white apron and colorful scarf any more, or she just kept her uniform for the poor afternoons and lunches and dressed appropriately for a dance at nightfall.  She looked like a dream, a glimpse of smoke over something that could never materialize between her fingers for more than just a second.  "I was wondering if I could bring you a special dessert today."  The witch offered, without leaving her eyes.</p><p> </p><p> "Severus always comments on his alcoholic ice cream, I'm really curious."  It was her companion who answered, a smile practically dripping from her lips still highlighted by the red lipstick.  She always blossomed in the face of kindness, there she was, practically melting into special treatment.</p><p> </p><p> "It certainly can be done, do you have a favorite drink?"  Bianchi was taking that little whitish pad out of his front pocket before firing a magic pen and writing some scribbles.</p><p> </p><p> "White wine."  Chef was still writing when Narcissa touched his hand across the table while trying to get her attention, but he was too lost between the past and the present to be able to face her back.  "Severus, dear?"  The call brought him to the surface, blinking icily before facing his mate and looking away at the woman in white waiting for her response.</p><p> </p><p> "Firewhisky."  He replied, before he could stop himself.  This time the witch did not write anything in her notebook, just nodded gently before murmuring that her requests would come out soon and leave them alone again.</p><p> </p><p> "Are you okay, Severus?"  The sweet voice brought him back to the present moment, the wizard held his hand delicately over the pale pale silk towel before gently kneading his thumb and waving.</p><p> </p><p> "Just a little tired."  It was not a lie, he refused to lie to Narcissa.</p><p> </p><p> "We can cancel the dessert."  She argued attentively.</p><p> </p><p> "No, a little sugar and alcohol will do us good."  The man scored, making her smile slightly before sipping her wine and commenting again on how unusual it was that of all people, one of her students ran that restaurant.  Severus vaguely recalls saying that yes, it was really a curious thing.  The desserts took no more than a few minutes to be served, in grandiose glasses of shiny crystal and with two silver cutlery.  It was impossible not to be taken again for that naughty snack at the time that Minerva was still trying to rescue him back to his faculty, when they were surprised by a dessert that was not on the menu, when he overheard her talking about the supposed passion that young woman  witch once nursed for you.  In a time when he thought he could very easily fall in love with someone like her, when he was unimpeded and dared to dream of things beautiful and too young for him.</p><p> </p><p> "This at least seems real."  Narcissa commented, digging deeper into her bowl with a small cake with a thin cake and two whitish scoops of ice cream.  By the expression of pleasure on her eyebrows, the candy was pleasing her on deeper levels than she could have imagined.  His firewhisky ice cream tasted like different possibilities and decisions, he tasted like going back to that one at a different time and inviting her to join him for a formal dinner, tasted like he was really questioning about his personal life and telling her about  It tasted like him touching her spicy-smelling skin and kissing her cold lips with the ice cream he would try to prepare for her.  She tasted like dreams that could never be true.  She tasted how easily he could have loved her, as easy as it was to slide his spoon over the tasty ice cream and guide him back to her tongue.  Narcissa insisted that they should order two more glasses for the trip and the young man who collected his orders informed that everything would be ready in a couple of minutes, the man was already pulling the necessary amount to his account when the magic package was placed in front of him by  too feminine hands to belong to the golden-haired young man.</p><p> </p><p> "Everything was really perfect, I couldn't say that I have been so satisfied with a meal in years."  Her companion announced, rising without ceremony to throw her gloved hands to greet the young witch with a soft kiss on her face and a smile that made her even more elegant.  The years have always fallen like jewels for Draco Malfoy's mother.</p><p> </p><p> "It was a pleasure to serve you, come back whenever you want, please."  Bianchi, commented softly.</p><p> </p><p> "We certainly will."  They would not return, Severus could not.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the man could never answer what really happened to himself so that his legs had tingled so completely once his skins were exposed back to the biting cold of the chilly night.  But still, he stopped before they could both apparate, a mist burning in his consciousness when his feet froze and his body became a great nerve pulsing by just a touch, a small touch of everything he wasn't going to get.  "Could I have a minute?"  He murmured, too scared of himself to do anything but touch the icy wall and face the starless sky.  Narcissa knew him well enough to respect his moment, staring at him just enough to make sure it wasn't her health that was at stake and waving quickly before pulling out her wand carefully and touching his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p> "Will you be able to Apparate yourself?"  She offered, soft, softer than a feather.</p><p> </p><p> "Yea."</p><p> </p><p> "See you at home then, dear."  The woman replied, kissing her shoulder before waving her dark wand and twirling the bag between her fingers.  But Severus remained tucked into the darkness of that dark alley as he tried to force whatever sanity was needed in his head before finally raising his head on fire and walking back to the restaurant entrance on his left.  The young wizard offered him a quick glance before opening the door and letting him in, assuming any of his things had been forgotten or he was going to place an extra order when he passed between the tables carefully and followed the  long corridor until it touches the silver handle carefully and turns.  The kitchen was as spacious as his laboratory, it was the first thing he noticed when he looked at the large steel pots hanging and the wooden shelves with glass jars arranged with colored lids, everything was being properly washed since the tables were practically all served  and properly emptied.  The schedule was over when he stared at the freshly wet steel sink and the utensils properly kept with drops of water rubbed on its shiny surface.  The door next to the pantry was made of wood, with no colored glass at the top once he reached the wooden handle and passed through the material outside in the freezing night of the exposed sky as soon as the cold covered his limbs.  It looked like a reasonable backyard when he noticed the big bare brick wall and the dark asphalt floor, his eyes still lost in the darkness captured the lazy, gray smoke on his left side when he finally faced the loose dark-haired woman on his narrow shoulders holding  that whitish butt over your lips and blowing the poison out of your lungs carefully.</p><p> </p><p> When he walked in front of him he was not thinking consciously, there was nothing in his head but the sharp need to have returned to his table before the door was slammed.  Never having said anything that day.  He still wasn't thinking when his cigarette fell to the floor and his dark eyes were looking at him and it seemed that the world was nothing but a dream and everything, absolutely everything had been lived so that he could be here, in front of him  , staring into your dark eyes like the freezing night.  He said the only thing he knew at that moment: Beatrice.  He said her name again, he said her name inside his mouth and absolutely everything could have ended, the world could have split in two and nothing else would matter if he could still say her name.</p><p> </p><p> "It was always you, it will always be you."  Beatrice whispered, touching her warm palm to the right side of his face and pressing her forehead against his.  "Certain things just weren't meant to happen, but it will still be you for me. Until the end."  He wanted to say that he was sorry, that in those days he did not know that he could feel anything for himself that was not remorse.  He wanted to say that guilt flushed his body until much later.  He wanted to say that he got used to isolating himself when things got too intense.  He wanted to say that he would like to go back in time and try, really try.  Give it to her, give it to himself.</p><p> </p><p> He didn't say any of that, instead he repeated her name.  More times than he knew it could be humanly possible, just because he spent so much time wondering what it would be like to call her by her first name as if she could, as if she owned.</p><p> </p><p> "Severus."  She replied, just once.  Kissing that piece in the corner of your cheek that could easily be your chest, your mind and the hole inside your soul.</p><p> </p><p> "Beatrice."  The potions master replied, one last time.  Before kissing her lips as if it could mean anything.  A promise they wouldn't keep, one last thing before he managed to meet his sparkling eyes again before stepping firmly out of the restaurant once again and not looking back when he apparated back to his house and didn't return there.</p><p> </p><p> Narcissa never asked him about that night, about the disturbing way he spent hours under the shower and didn't say another word when he lay in bed and drank a whole bottle of dreamless sleep to get to sleep.  The next morning he was still her mate, frying eggs the way she wanted and sealing her forehead as she mumbled a clumsy good morning and smiled at nothing special with her silky hair and beautiful eyes.  So when tragedy stamped the cover of the daily prophet with a terrifyingly scary photo of the front of the spotless restaurant with a long line at her door, she didn't ask either.  She met his eyes when he touched the paper so carefully that it might be breaking in his hands, he blinked more than a few times before holding his prescription glasses over his nose and running his eyes over the terrible news.  It could be a mistake, she meant, but she knew she was just lying to avoid what could not be avoided.  She used to do that to Draco, whispering lies in his ear so the boy could survive another day without having his psychological crushed like an insect.  But that was really a tragedy, the young witch was only a few years older than her son, such a beautiful career being built and a lifetime ahead of her, her name should not be stamping the front page of the daily prophet in that sick way.</p><p> </p><p> One more late victim of the war: Beatrice Bianchi, the promising owner of the Amortentia restaurant, was struck by the delayed effect of an unforgivable curse.  Sources point out that the young woman was aware of her condition from the beginning, but decided to keep it a secret.  Her ceremony will be held Saturday afternoon at the memorial for war victims, Beatrice will be buried beside her mother: Clarice Bianchi and her father: Ethan Bianchi, both killed in the battle of Hogwarts.  Bianchi leaves no heirs and her restaurant is, according to her will, for her right hand in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Severus did not attend the small ceremony, he did not see how his presence could be of any use to the people who were there to pay their tributes urgently.  He stayed at home until a week later, when an owl too white to look at all like his left that earthy wrap on his desk and pecked his fingers when he offered a milk biscuit.  The square package was addressed directly to him, but there was no recognition in the handwriting when he opened the small dark paper and a hardcover book fell on his body with a yellowish cover over time.  The leaves were yellowed and worn, but when the first page was turned he revealed that dedication scrawled with peaked letters.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> "For the one I will never be able to forget, even if you no longer remember me.</p><p> </p><p> I'm sorry I never said it, you never told me when it would be the right time to tell you everything that no longer exists in your head.  And I never found the opportunity, not when you were moving on before I could touch his hand.  It has been a difficult day since I realized that there was nothing left of me in you, but I will be forever grateful for all that you still have in me.  But since the wizarding society has yet to find a cure for the forgetfulness spell we use and my time in this world is evaporating, I decided that this belongs to you.</p><p> </p><p> You foolish man, my heart is in your hands and now my thoughts are too.</p><p> </p><p> With love and memories,</p><p> your Beatrice Biachi. "</p>
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